


(Part Of) A Day In The Life Of A Rebel Spy Captain And His Annoyingly Tall Droid

by Nununununu



Series: Just Another Mission (Gone Wrong) [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: (physical and emotional), Concussions, Defending your droid partner from evil aliens, Don't copy to another site, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mission Gone Wrong, Rescue, Robot/Human Relationships, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: If K-2SO survived this, Cassian was going to find a means of insisting that, next time, the droidstay on the ship.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/K-2SO
Series: Just Another Mission (Gone Wrong) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592398
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	(Part Of) A Day In The Life Of A Rebel Spy Captain And His Annoyingly Tall Droid

**Author's Note:**

> Series otherwise known as Droid and Spy Fail To Deal With Emotions (Until They Do).
> 
> TW for non-graphic violence, injury and brief mentions of vomiting.

If K-2SO survived this, Cassian was going to find a means of insisting that, next time _,_ the droid _stay on the ship._

Not that their mission briefing or any of the information he and Kay had subsequently collected had even hinted at the fact that the fuel-rich outer rim semi-metallic insectoid species the Rebellion had sent them to broker a deal with could emit what amounted to a blast similar in some ways to an electromagnetic pulse with their wings. Or that they would take one look at Kay and decide to ‘free’ him from his ‘enslavement to feeble humans’ by disabling and dismantling him, apparently with the intention of melting him down into a shape similar to their own forms, made of ‘sentient glass’.

For all of his experience and training, Cassian had been so stymied by this that the carefully constructed speech he had composed after two days of covert observation of the insectoids had faltered for what Kay would later tell him was one point five of a second on his lips.

This had been plenty of time in which for a droid to speak first and then over him, informing the insectoids essentially that, actually, Kay preferred his parts the way they were, thank you very much.

In a typically blunter and ruder manner than this, that was.

Whether the insectoids had taken more objection to Kay declining their offer or to his tone of voice, it was hard to tell – although if Cassian were to ask the droid in question, K-2SO would no doubt inform him.

Not wasting the time it would take to berate himself for the slip – that would come later – Cassian had shaken himself into action, going for one of the weapons concealed about his person, only for the blast to come seemingly from nowhere and sweep Kay off his feet. The droid was lying flat out where he’d fallen now, all of his systems very nearly or actually offline, his optics dim and flickering, managing to simultaneously look extremely offended and extremely perturbed.

Discovering almost all of his weaponry had been knocked out of commission by the same blast was what Kay might consider an interesting development. Cassian however just narrowed his eyes and glanced at the nearest of the insectoids, who was busy informing him that they would never negotiate with putrid fleshy humans, which would have been very useful to know before going into this; Cassian was going to need to schedule another meeting with the informants he’d met with on preparing for this mission.

He absorbed the fact that Kay was attempting to communicate with him via flashing his already guttering optics – the droid rolling them at him after the message was conveyed – and refrained from rolling his eyes back in return, given he was already aware that the talkative nearby insectoid was preparing to attack him with its sword. Then –

And this was the part Cassian was going to blame on the head injury –

When the insectoid went to sweep the blade in towards his neck in the attempt to behead him, Cassian went against all protocol by stepping into the blow rather than evading, struck the creature’s wrist hard and helped himself to the sword, deciding to also take on the two other insectoids busy seeking to disassemble Kay instead of endeavouring to scrape up some form of success out of the mission.

 _For the good of the Rebellion._ That was the tenet Cassian lived by; the core of his existence since he was six. He’d always told himself – and Kay – that the mission came before anything else, and had never allowed himself to question this.

But now it had come to it and a mission had gone to pot, and Kay was lying there unable to do anything but blink at him while two aliens strove to remove the droid’s limbs –

“ _Kay_ –”

And Cassian discovered he was Very Not Okay with this turn of events in a decidedly unprofessional manner, startling himself and potentially Kay and definitely their hosts. He similarly discovered that he really was dizzier than he wanted to admit to, and that it had been several years since he’d last had to fight for his life with anything as anachronistic as a sword.

But it wasn’t _his_ life he was fighting for.

 _Cassian, you idiot,_ K-2SO quite possibly signalled via their code. Despite everything, the thought of Kay’s tone caused a grim smile to attempt to flicker at the very corners of Cassian’s lips. Adjusting his grip on the sword as the first alien produced a duplicate and came at him, he forced the expression away.

Everything narrowed down into a pattern of attack and evade after that, especially when he succeeded in persuading the other two aliens into leaving K-2SO and coming at him as well. Cassian was forced to put his very best footwork into it, moving in ways his body didn’t want to admit to remembering, pushing through the throb in his skull that sought to slow his reactions and, more so, the fear that if any of his opponents thought to aim another of those blasts at Kay –

Well.

Cassian was usually very good at not thinking about certain things. He was surprised to find that this was not one of those times and that he was panting, and that Kay was looking as increasingly frantic and disturbed as it was possible for him to express with only his optics, which he somehow managed to do quite effectively.

“I predicted the chances of your survival at twenty one point two percent,” K-2SO observed somewhat snippily later, when Cassian had managed to defeat his opponents mostly through trickery and some particularly underhand tactics, and was obliged to vomit in a corner before dragging himself over to do some emergency rewiring of Kay’s systems, something that, along with their hasty escape afterwards, wasn’t aided by the fact he was starting to find it difficult to see.

This was purely the head injury at work, of course.

Even so, however practiced as he was at obfuscation of the truth, Cassian was aware he was not going to be able to compose this particular mission report out of carefully coded omissions pieced together to fabricate a more acceptable whole. Duty was going to oblige him to admit, even if just to himself, that he was compromised.

“Fuck.”

Instead he threw up in the bucket he was holding again.

“There was a forty three percent chance that permitting my destruction would have aided the mission,” K-2SO apparently deemed this an optimal time to comment, “Even if this hadn’t been the case, you should have left me and saved yourself.”

His long metal fingers were gentle in Cassian’s hair where he was holding it, unasked, away from the human’s face.

“I thought I was going to have to watch them kill you, Cassian.”

 _I know how that feels,_ Cassian didn’t snap. _What, no statistics?_ he also didn't say.

Looking blurrily at his white knuckles and cramping fingers as he clutched at the bucket in silence, Cassian suddenly realised he was terrified, a belated reaction to seeing Kay vulnerable at the hands of those who wanted to rip him apart. He'd insisted on checking Kay's systems the moment they'd left atmo, in addition to Kay running a thorough scan himself, but still –

“You’re suffering from concussion,” Kay said, softer, while Cassian stared at the bucket and bit the inside of his cheek viciously, refusing to let his breath catch or his body further react, “We should return to base so you can pretend you don’t need to be seen by a professional as opposed to a security droid with basic medical files.”

They were hiding post getaway in an asteroid belt composed mostly of shards made out of what looked much like broken metallic glass. It was – disturbing, the ridiculous notion that struck Cassian then as he glanced out of the view screen: that these shapes drifting abandoned in space could be the discarded remains of other beings, other droids, other _people_ the aliens had transformed, as they had sought to transform Kay.

“Your medical files are fine, Kay,” Cassian said lowly, even as he shut that thought down. It was possible he needed to sleep. To sleep and not think about anything, for a while.

Even if he knew he would have bad dreams.

Prising the bucket from Cassian’s grasp, Kay produced a soft damp cloth. Rather than handing it over, he took one of Cassian’s clenched hands in his and coaxed it slowly out of its fist, running the cloth first over Cassian’s palm, then his fingers, and then the back of his hand, wiping away traces of blood and sweat as effectively as if this was something he did every day.

No one ever touched Cassian like this, aside from K-2SO. There was no one else, unless he was necessitated to by a mission, that he would permit to touch him like it.

Cassian stared at Kay’s fingers around his as the droid moved onto cleaning his other hand.

“I am grateful,” Kay stated quietly, when the task was finished, “That you didn’t leave me,” and shocked Cassian by folding the cloth over to a clean corner and cupping the human’s chin, tipping his head up to wipe his face.

“That’s not –” Cassian went to jerk back reflexively, but didn’t get anywhere thanks to that grip. There was dampness on his cheeks he couldn’t entirely explain away by the head injury, and –

“It’s all right,” Kay said just as quietly, and something huge welled up in Cassian’s throat at the steady pass of the cloth over his temples and forehead and lower, something he refused to name.

“I didn’t thank you the times you’ve saved my life,” He said instead of anything else, when he was able to, after K-2SO had removed the bucket entirely and tidied away the cloth and med kit.

“I calculated a forty six percent likelihood this was due to you being ungrateful,” K-2SO was back to sounding put out, thankfully, a state of being Cassian was far more accustomed to and better able to deal with.

“I wasn’t _ungrateful_ ; I just –” Cutting himself off, Cassian sought to stand, finding he was not too unsteady, but took the arm Kay held out in offer of assistance as a precaution. He stumbled forwards slightly, expecting Kay to start in the direction of his berth, feet not quite prepared to stop when the droid didn’t move. It brought them close together, although Cassian found he couldn’t raise his head to look Kay in the face.

He told himself this was because K-2SO was annoyingly tall and not that he was reminded anew of those flickering optics as his friend lay there on the ground, helpless.

“You resented my prioritising your safety over the success of the missions,” Kay predicted. His fingers – the fingers that had held Cassian’s and cleaned him and touched him with precision and grace and strength – threaded through Cassian’s hair, locating the dull pulse of pain on his head with ease, “I apologise for striking you when hit by that blast.”

 _It seems I also prioritise your safety over everything else,_ Cassian did not say.

“You should learn not to gesture so expansively,” He didn’t quite lean against his friend, but he did close his eyes for longer than he probably should have, “It’s fine, Kay.”

“You should learn to duck,” Kay retorted, but didn’t remove his hand and nor did he move back. He expelled a gust of air from a vent in his version of a sigh, “It’s not fine.”

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Cassian found he was able to say then, which was very much the truth, but in some ways felt inadequate. He held himself very still as Kay’s hand slid down to cup his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re not dead as well, Cassian,” Kay returned. He did move then, after a few seconds that felt like much longer to Cassian, lowering his hand and nudging the human into setting off towards his small cabin, “You should rest. I will accompany you and remain in your room to observe.”

“In case of further side effects to the concussion or in case I start doing paperwork?” Cassian felt himself compelled to argue whatever his actual feelings on the matter might be, “I’ll be fine, Kay.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Kay was clearly not going to be dissuaded, and so Cassian allowed himself to be led to his berth.

It was possible that a tiny smile even carved a line to one side of his mouth as he followed his friend.


End file.
